It goes on
by xkaiistarx
Summary: The pestilence comes in quick waves, destroying the world. When a nation turns up dead, the most primal of fears is struck deep into their hearts. In the midst of pandemonium, Katya runs to find the only relative she has left. Apocalypse AU.
1. Nascence and Confluence

I.

It starts slowly. Particles of dust blown from across the ocean. The wind envelops all, and the man by the roadside inhales it unknowingly. The next day, he gets a cold and does not go to work, hoping to recuperate. He does not.

On the fifth day, he takes painkillers, hoping to ease the pain in his head and chest. Falling into sleep, he misses the first traces of blood leaking from his nose.

The next morning, he coughs, chokes up blood. They sent him to the hospital. _Too late_, they tell his weeping wife. Died from abnormal reasons.

Inside the empty surgery room, a nurse cleans the last of the remains, the body long gone for storage. She sniffles as she wipes the last traces of yellow dust on the operating table.

Outside, a little girl clutches her crying mother and coughs.

II.

The numbers rise. Reports of people falling to this mysterious disease sends the world into a frenzy. Complains start coming in, then demonstrations, riots. Scientists can't find the cure.

People start to stay away from one another. Food stockpiles start. Prices rise. Violence is on the high. Panic is clear on their faces, they just think another push off the edge.

In the meeting room, America jokes lightly that the situation was just like the beginning to a zombie apocalypse. Canada shushes him, and the meeting falls into a tense silence.

One more push. They cannot afford another push.

III.

Seven months after the first reported alarm sounded on this international crisis, it happens.

The Americas were the first to fall, hit by a pestilence. So strong that half the population was wiped out under a month.

The rising numbers had been just a warning, a warm up of what was to come. Waves of dust from the Pacific, source still unknown, flew in across the sky. They killed all that breathe. Anything but plant life was gone. Dead in a week or so.

People brought masks, didn't step out of their homes, and for a time being they survived this horrible fate. But the virus adapted. In a few weeks not even one prepared could survive the looming death.

A small group of people were discovered to be resistant to the dust. This, the dust deals in different ways. It became stronger. Infected died in just under three days. The symptoms vary, but blood leaking is the case every time. Any contact with the infected that enables the dust to get into the bloodstream directly yields the same effect, no matter how strong the resistant was.

The world could only watch helplessly as the great continent fell. Quarantines were made, no one was allowed to escape to Europe or Asia. _You have sentenced us to death! _ Survivors cry. _You will rue the day you did not show us mercy! _

IV.

Four months after the Great Wave in the Americas, Korea was struck by the second wave. The _jinheulg_, they called it as the dust flew, carried by monsoon winds. In Europe, asylum seekers forced their way through Portugal.

Guns were fired. Knifes used. Man had turned against man. In the midst of running from the feared , blood begin to spill.

The world meetings were cancelled and everyone stayed at home. America and Canada have not been heard from in weeks. One morning Ukraine received a call that the mighty nation was dead. Dead, just like that. A tearful England conveyed. Gone.

Canada had just relayed the news that Cuba was next, having caught the pestilence too. Won't survive the night. He himself was still safe, having being granted immunity as a country. It had been an idiot's move, Ameri-Alfred. Tried to save a girl and got the dust into his system. Dead on the third sunrise with an apologetic smile on his face.

Not one of the nations moved. Shocked, silent. The pestilence was capable to kill even the strongest of them.

Ukraine did not sleep that night.

V.

She decides to run one day. Her people were leaving, countries dissolving in front of her very eyes. Ukraine, Katya, Ukraine, Katya. The name she was once was disappearing. No more Ukraine, no more personification. Her identity was slipping away. She was only Katya now.

She thinks she would cry, if only she had tears left to shed. Australia was dead, France was dead, and there were rumours that Belgium, Denmark and Estonia had all caught the dust. Her sister, her dear sweet Natalya, was dying, spending her last moments alone, refusing to let her sister visit for fear of the dust spreading.

And Vanya, oh her beloved Vanya, gone, left. Disappeared into nothing. Was he dead? In a safe house? Her belly twisted at the idea. She wanted to puke. Her family, her only ties, were at their last seams. One more push, one more day, and she would-might _please_- lose them all forever.

It had been a long time since she has contacted any of the nations. The last she heard, Italy had turned to prayer, and Turkey had fled for India. The Asians were out of reach, the last phone call from Vietnam weeks ago. Alone, they all were, in this pestilence-reeked world.

Katya took only a bag and her axe, edges full of dust without centuries of use but still gleaming with the past glories of her days, and headed for the border.

To the heart of the dust she would go, to find survivors and head for north. Anywhere where it would not stink of blood and death. Of hopelessness and fear.

VI.

Why an axe?

Even now, traversing through the thick woodlands of what used to be Romania, Katya would not be able to tell you. Maybe it had been a last minute effort to preserve her past legacy, to remind herself she was still strong, a desperate clinch for protection.

At any rate, it was a good thing she brought it along.

One week on the road, the sky turned yellow and the dust begun a second round of purging. Infected no longer died. They turn instead, into creatures with dead minds that thirst for the moving. Monsters of the dust. They took and turned more than what the initial virus did alone.

Anyone could be affected. Animals, people. Katya no longer went into the towns or villages in her way. Larger cities and capitals she bypassed all together.

She trusted only grains and fruit, and at night she slept in the canopy of the pines. Damp, cold. Dread crept on her like a vine, choking her and warning her of what was to be inescapable.

The first time she uses the axe, it is not for wood.

VII.

The days grow colder and the trails steeper. Katya does not glimpse many survivors now. There used to be a whole lot of them. Travelling in groups towards north, east, anywhere they believed the pestilence has not reached yet.

She remembers the leader of one taking one look at her weapon and cursing in terror. There had been no invitation to join any of them at their camps that night. They had given her incredulous looks at her plan to go further into Europe. _You must be mad_, they had said as they shot another look at her crusted axe. Katya notices the way they fingered their guns restlessly and says nothing.

She leaves at dawn the next day, quietly. No one stops her. No one comes.

VIII.

Food grows scarce and with it, her desperation. When night arrives, she puts on a cloak, pieced together with leather and thread and heads for the outskirts of a city. She enters a warehouse, takes what she can carry and leaves.

She does not get caught. She has seen what happens to those who do.

She is awaken one night by the sound of screams. There is smoke in the air, ash in the wind. In a distance she spots them. Lumbering bony creatures with soulless eyes, except they are not lumbering now.

Her blood turns cold, and she runs. Into the forest, up, up, and away from the smoke. Movement alerts her, and she twists, bringing her axe down on the pursuer. There is a crunch, the sickening smell of blood, then silence.

Katya steps away from the lifeless creature, and hears a whimper. Human. She pushes the bushes behind it aside hesitantly, and instantly muffles a cry. The pained whimpers of a girl filled the clearing. Her torso broken, arm mangled. Eyes wordlessly staring up at her in a silent plea, and blood. So much blood.

Katya breaks, tries to comfort the girl all that she can. She begs for it to be not, but it's too late; the dust had settled. The girl gurgles, her eyes frosting over, and Katya knows, even as her broken body tried to mend itself, that she would never walk again, even as an infected of the dust.

When the axe comes down, her eyes are steady. They only waver once she unearths the string of beads from the girl's pocket.

She is gone in the morning, a ring of pebbles and wild flowers marking the unnaturally curved surface of soil in the clearing.

IX.

She finds a spring one day. A bubbling brook spewing fresh water to form the pool of liquid.

For the first time in a long while, Katya bathes and drinks her fill. When she is done, she fills her water storage, and cleans her axe. The blood comes off in rusty tones of brown and black, and she trembles, hands shaking as her breaths come in spontaneous gasps.

She closes her eyes, and instantly wishes she hadn't, as the red is even more vivid then. Her hands clutch grass as she throws up, nothing but gastric fluid, and she curls into a ball, heaving as she rode out the panic attack.

The tears come at her last shuddering breaths, as she tries not to think of all the people she has killed. Even as infected, they still bare resemblance to the humans they were before. The face of Alfred looms in front of her, eyes shut and smile apologetic, then Natalya, orbs cold and calculative even on her deathbed. She thinks of a younger brother that did not seem to care enough to tell her where he had gone and weeps harder, body too spent to cry properly.

She falls asleep to the sound of falling water and tears streaking her cheeks.

* * *

A/N

Hello! This will be updated weekly.

This story was inspired by a rainy and soggy walk home. I was feeling kind of down, and all the dark thoughts came to me. With dark thoughts came this serious AU. Besides Ukraine, there will be three other characters joining the party.

No, they are not who you think they are. Yes, they are the last people you would expect to be alive. Well, not really. But they are under-appreciated characters and I wanted to put them in the spotlight. You can try guessing who they are though. I welcome all suggestions.

This is not a happy story. Characters you know and love will die and not return from the afterlife. You have been warned.


	2. Threshold and Trials

X.

Food runs out, and soon water as well. The days moved as if like a haze and Katya isn't quite sure where she is moving to anymore. Each night she stares at the north star, still shining bright in the black sky, and repeats this endless mantra to herself.

North, north, north... her words blend into a pile of jumbled words and thoughts, memories of happier times, and of blood, fear, all mixed together. It hurt to think.

She spies a pair of corpses on an old footpath rotting. The stench was unbearable, with flies buzzing around the bodies. Katya wanted to be sick, except she had nothing left to throw up. Stumbling away, she shuddered as the wind blew against her frame. Her once healthy figure had turned skinny, and even the axe she carried felt like a deadweight.

_How pathetic_. She would never survive a fight with an infected in her current state. Lucky then, for they didn't like the cold and ventured north less.

As she moved sluggishly up the grassy terrain, something cold lands on her nose. Gazing upwards, Katya could only sigh at the white fluff falling from the skies. The air is cold, and she wonders if the dust was hiding behind the illusion of grey clouds.

The act of enshrouding. She would not be surprised if the dust was malicious enough to achieve that.

XI.

Winter comes, but so does luck.

She finds a cabin the middle of the woods, concealed by hills and trees. A good location to hide from. Still, something nags at the back of her mind, warning her muddled brain to be careful, and its only when she moves closer that she understands why.

The cabin was silent, eerily so, and the interior dark. Crows and ravens fluttered about the premises, their caws jubilant as they pecked at unseen scraps of nourishment.

Pushing the door of the cabin apart gently, Katya felt her frame tensed at the scene. Blood stained the walls, and the lingering smell of death and gun powder covered the room like dust. There had been a fight, and infected or not, someone had been hurt, badly.

A sheet of paper on the table caught her eye, fluttering against the chill emanating from the opened door. _By_ _Hermine_, it read, _Papa, Mama and I_- the rest of the paper was covered in dried blood, though pieces of a drawing could be seen.

Setting the drawing down, Katya searched the cabin for supplies-_please any food would do_-and lady luck must have been smiling for she does.

Pushing the dozen or so packets of dried meat strips into her bag, she manages a giddy smile. The tap water still works, so after she has drunk her fill, she swiftly replenished her supply and headed for the door. Stealing feels like second nature to her now, and she must if she is to survive.

The crows' caws echoes long after she has left the cabin, but Katya worries not. The prospect of having food makes her smile, and suddenly winter doesn't seem so menacing after all.

Despite the cold, she sleeps warm and full that night.

XII.

The days only get longer and colder, and Katya finds it harder and harder to travel and gain ground every passing sunrise. Her body numbs, and frostbite pushes up to make the top of her potential danger list.

Infected sightings have dwindled somewhat, but Katya knew better; they were still lurking out there, monsters stagnant in the cold. But it was so hard, so very hard to even think of protecting herself when the cold threatened to suffocate her very being.

She fights, tries to build fires, to gain any semblance to warmth she could find. But the harsh winds blew so hard, and the snow soiled the wood so that even a spark was hard to produce.

For the first time since the day she ran, Katya finds herself wanting to give up.

Every step was pure torture, and the wind, so strong and cold. Her mind coaxed her to stop, to simply cease movement and rest, sleep for an eternity. But her body continued to push her forward, one step and then another and it _hurts_ but _why can't I stop..? _

Katya shudders-so cold..-and finds herself as a child again, helpless and weak, wanting the tears to fall but _no, that would be weakness and I have to be strong for beloved Van-._

_Ah, there it is again._ An image of her siblings flashed pass her mind and Katya became vaguely aware that she was stumbling, stumbling forward, legs frozen solid but still _moving_ and how could she have thought of giving up when they wouldn't have wanted her to but _I'm so sorry and it hurts so, so much-_

In her delirious mind she thinks she sees a light in the distance. A fuzzy little orange thing that flickered in and out in size and couldn't seem to focus properly. She makes a last ditch effort for the light, trembling hand stretching for it, and then feels it, the warmth. Gentle warmth. Salvation.

She stumbles clumsily towards the warmth and heat, hands slipping their hold on her axe, and falls. Soft and comfortable, so sleepy. In her last moments of consciousness she thinks she hears someone yelling her name worriedly, not _woman_ or _you_ but her name, her name from long ago.

Ukraine.

XIII.

She surfaces once during the long hours between blackness and dreams. Blurry images and flickering warmth brushed against her tired frame. Barely hanging on to reality.

A hand had brushed against the cloth on her forehead, lightly, comforting.

_Sleep_, the voice said. Gentle, quiet. Katya slipped back into darkness.

XIV.

She was still warm when she woke up, an extra coat tucked tightly around her body. The fire was out, though its core still simmered with sparks that stubbornly refused to be put out by the chilling wind.

Katya gently shook herself from the coat bundle, hissing at the sting of the cold air. A travelling bag laid on the ground beside her, a sniper rifle placed neatly beside it. An overhang formed and neatly put together by stone sheltered her from most of winter's wrath. Scanning the small refuge, she found her axe and bag in a neat pile beside her.

The sound of crunching footsteps alerted her, and she placed one hand tentatively on the sturdy handle, waiting. Snow fell from the overhang as a person, a man, entered the tiny space, crouching to sit by the fireplace.

_You are awake_, he smiled at her, familiar and not at all afraid. The tired weary tone in his voice unnerved her, and she swallowed heavily as she regarded him warily.

_Do I know you?_

He laughed quietly at her unsettled form, placing the rifle he donned down and lifting up the hood of his coat. _Don't you remember me Ukraine? _She breathed sharply then, hardly daring to believe it. His violet eyes, so familiar from those distant meetings so long ago, blinked at her, weary and happy all at once, and Katya could only whisper out his name as though any louder would result in his disappearance.

_Finland?_

_It's just Tino now_, he smiles sadly.

XV.

It was those days when winter was harshest, and they stayed in the overhang all day, it was those days when Tino could not hunt game and they had to live off her dried meat that Katya found out about his circumstances.

He had been with Sweden-Berwald when the pestilence came. The attack was fast, swift. By day's end half of the Nordic regions had been affected. They had run, footprints leaving the stench of sickness behind them.

It takes three days for him to feel himself starting to break apart. The day Finland was no more, he lost Berwald to a surprise wave of dust. Separated, alone. He had wandered the land for his brothers, for any resistant. The next time he laid eyes on the former, it was on Iceland's rotting corpse.

He had lost himself then, turned away from civilisation and went into the mountains. Killing sprees, massacres, he'd done them all. An one-man army. It was only weeks after then could he get any coherent thought into his head. There had been news, rumours that the East had a refugee camp free from the pestilence. He would go there, attempt to find any nation that had made it.

Tino's eyes had been broken, so broken as he relayed his tale. But Katya's had mirrored his as she did the same. At the end, the shelter beneath the overhang had been silent, the both of them full of words too heavy to ever speak them aloud.

Their hands found each others' that night, the clothed digits subconsciously curling around the other tightly. Reassuring, to comfort for things too late.

It happens again the night after, and the ones after that. If they are aware, they do not speak of it.

XVI.

They leave once the coldest days have made their mark. Snow, fresh, still falls, but lighter now, different from those previous that had darkness and heaviness tinged on the tiny flakes.

Dried meat was long gone, so they resolve to eating bark of the thin pines. At night Tino builds fires, and Katya falls asleep to the comforting crackle. In day, their bodies buckle under the weight of their cloaks and coats as they trekked, their weapons slung over slumped shoulders.

They never stopped moving.

Katya spots them sometimes; tiny slivers of gold and ugly yellow staring at them from high above the green, between rocks and stones that form cliffs arcing into the mountainside. She keeps her axe close as the evasive gazes glittered at her, watching, waiting. The predator and the supposed prey.

When they come during the night, invisible limbs rustling the leaves softly, she pounces. The tables turn, and the creatures retreat, hungry and defeated. That night, the both of them feasted on wolves. They did not stay long enough to linger, the traces of blood and echo of gun shots still in the air enough to attract others, whether animal, survivor, or infected.

When dawn comes, they find a crack in the cliff wall to rest in. They sleep, shoulder to shoulder, one hand on their weapons. Katya doesn't wake up until the sun rises again, a ball of dusty yellow in the dust-covered sky.

XVII.

They reached Germany's borders one week later. Houses were long deserted, abandoned for ruin, and nature had begun to reclaim what once was hers. Katya couldn't begin to imagine what the cities look like. They search for nourishment, and though the notion of eating stale grain would have, once upon a time, made her sigh, she is nothing but thankful now.

Tino didn't like the thought of them going further into Europe, but his insistent pleas that they leave fell on deaf ears.

_It will get worse, Katya. If any of us had a good sense of mind, they would move as far away from here as they can._

_We still have to try. I cannot leave without making sure... I don't want to regret it. _The thought of anyone else trapped and cornered by infected made her stomach heave.

The smell of the decayed grow even stronger as they persisted. By day four Katya has lost count of the amount of infected that met the end from her curved weapon. She was tired. Tino wasn't doing too well either.

As she waits for him to gather up spare ammunition in a warehouse, she presses her forehead against the cool surface of the helve and closes her eyes.

She starts breaking.

XVIII.

The cry had attracted them at first, pained and woeful.

By the time Katya and Tino had reached the hills, the silhouette stood stark against the white sky. The figure turned slowly, tears dripping from his cheeks and arms cradling a body, and she had to suck in a breath to prevent her tears from spilling.

Even from a distance, the personification of Switzerland looked impossibly heartbroken. His hair was matted, and clothing dirt-streaked and bloodstained, but it was what Katya saw in his eyes that made her freeze up and hesitate to call out.

His eyes burned with anguished fire, glittering pinpricks of starlight hardening the emerald orbs. Vash gave another agonized cry as he placed the load in his arms gently on the ground. He looked up once, emerald meeting blue, before turning tail from his spot.

The next moments were a blur.

Katya was dimly aware she was running, the figure of Vash disappearing within her view. The hill felt impossibly steep, and no matter how fast she moved, she could not move fast enough. Her cry came out hoarse, desperate, but the pursued showed no sign of stopping.

Higher, faster, Katya ran until she reached the top. Her eyes dropped to the body lying on the grass, and her head instantly spun. _No, no, no!_ Feet grounded to a halt behind her, and she heard Tino biting back a curse.

Knees buckle as a pair of footsteps started again. Katya refused to acknowledge the sleeping figure beside her. Because she's only sleeping right? ...Right?

Dull white stare up at her in a glazed fashion, foam at the mouth and wound on the chest. Blood continued its path to stain the fabric red. One look at the deathly pale skin and the familiar soulless eyes, one glance at dust-crusted fingernails, and Katya knew. Knew and yet...

Beyond the incline, she hears rustling and muffled shouts, and lifted her head up warily. A gunshot echoes, and her whole world turns grey.

* * *

A/N

So, cliffhanger haha.

Do you love Finland? I sure do. Do you love Switz? Yup, I do too. Will they die? Eh, you will have to wait and see hmm? B)


	3. Temptations and Descent

XIX.

They bury the bodies on the outskirts of the village. Tino places tiny wildflowers on one and fixes a half buried rock on the other. Katya scratches out their names with a piece of chalk she found onto wood.

They stand for a while, in silence. Katya's eyes do not leave the slightly elevated mounds. Her hands were squeezed into tight fists, and no amount of quiet coaxing from her companion would force her to speak.

When they leave, Katya thinks she could hear the laughter of one of her best friends. In a desperate attempt she shuts her eyes and sees it; darling Lilli dancing among the wildflowers, watched over by the brother that loved her too much that killing her meant killing himself.

She doesn't mention the dampness on Tino's cheeks.

XX.

The nightmares come, worse this time. They plague her dreams like the pestilence, refusing to leave. She finds herself waking multiple times in the night, always in cold sweat, always trembling.

She cries in her sleep again, and awakes to find Tino looking at her anxiously. The night was still young, the fire put out hours ago to avoid curious infected from coming. Her hands reach for him helplessly, fingers absentmindedly brushing gently against the bandaged wound on his chin from the distant tussle with Vash.

_I'm sorry_, she finds herself saying, and Tino sighs, dark circles under his eyes.

_It's not your fault._ He smiles shakily, and she knows, knows that he is breaking too.

The nightmares don't just haunt her. When Tino wakes up shouting in angry Finnish one night, she gathers his shaking frame in her arms and hums weakly, lulling him back into uneasy slumber.

She thinks of Natalya and Ivan again, one dead and the other missing, and bites back a wave of helpless frustration and despair.

XXI.

They stop moving west.

XXII.

The pinnacle of spring comes, and with it the land blooms. Tino hunts birds with ease, and for a time they eat well. Katya teaches him which berries and flowers are edible and both exchange their knowledge of usable plant life to make salves.

Running water is plenty, and for many a day they trail the streams down their paths, determined not to lose their source of water. Infected do not venture up the mountains and hills easily, so for days they relax.

They bathe, careful to avoid exposing themselves to the other, hard when even the slightest disturbance might mean the presence of an infected. Needless to say, the experience makes for awkward conversations during dinner. Tino skins rabbits and raccoons (and once even a deer), always leaving out the pelt, which Katya sews into sturdy clothes and cloths for their needs.

They dare to sleep on the ground, though still being mindful in setting up fires. Katya finds it easier to cope with the nightmares, and her panic attacks decrease. Unsettled peace starts to fill her being again.

When the stream they were following curved gently into human territory one day, they found themselves hesitating. Katya shuffled her feet restlessly, unsure whether to trek on.

They leave reluctantly on the third day, when their presence attracts infected and aggressive survivors in the nearby village.

XXIII.

Down they went, leaving the North Star behind. They snake their way into Italy, out of the forests and into the lion's den. Here infected and resistant roamed plenty, aggressively defending their turfs of concrete and stone.

Katya and Tino adapt, throwing themselves into hopeful danger whenever the elusive opportunities presented themselves. They sleep in crates, nabbing what scrap of food they could find, sometimes at gunpoint, and when pursued, taking the chase into alleyways and infected territory.

There was no more chivalry between men of that age, especially on those holding on to false hope. Anyone who doesn't flee always suffered the same fate.

Aside from minor scabs and cuts that were easily fixed, they remained relatively whole. Tino comments on their luck while applying salve on his arms during a brief reprieve, and Katya had to agree.

Their muscles ached for days after from the parkour they had done, but what was it but just a small price to pay for survival.

XXIV.

They spy a church burning up at a distance.

Under the sun's rays, the white marble seemed to glow with an eerie aspect. There were no screams, no ringing of bells. The air was stiff, silent, all living beings holding their breath as they watched the burning display.

From their position on the roof the flames looked small and insignificant, but Katya knew they must be hot enough to melt marble from the inside.

If she focuses hard enough, she thinks she can hear the cries of its many occupants inside. _Salvation, salvation. Lord and Saviour, mercy.._ Turning to a higher power was not a new norm these days. Perhaps the opposite was what was startling.

She feels ghosts skimming their hands down her back, cold and unsettling. She squirms minutely, the sight of the burning church so potent she had to look away. Beside her, Tino too looked uneasy. Down below, pass the rows of houses and courtyards, the church begin to creak. Fumes thickened, and the fire glowed ever whiter.

Not one exited the burning building. The group of infected that had stomped the church earlier also remained missing.

They leave long before the flames die, evading the whispered pleas and begging in the wind, an unknown last wish by someone familiar hanging like hope.

XXV.

The seasons change, and the dust continued to boil over lands. But a change, no matter how minimal, can be felt. Katya wakes one morning to find the air smelling faintly of April showers. Her cloak wet, she drops from her perch on the tree and goes about getting supplies.

She returns with an armful of berries to see a figure prodding about the helve of her axe. She moves, fluid. One strike, and the thief found himself with an knife to the back.

_Who are you_, she asks, voice hard and brow narrowed. From the edge of her vision she sees a shadow flicker and a thin pointed butt sticking out of the undergrowth imperceptibly.

_That's a nice little thing you got there, though you need skills to kill those annoying buggers with it._ He does not return the question.

Katya could taste the cockiness in his smirk even with his back to her, and the thought made her so undeniably livid that her voice came out harsher then she would have wanted.

_Leave? What do you mean leave? Your supplies are sure to hold me up for weeks, why do you think I would leave just like that?_ The figure moved to grab her axe, ignoring the glare of the woman behind him. _Now just stand there, and I might not be posed to shoot. I might even allow you to stay with me, provide you can give me your..services. _

The man turned with the most lewd smile on his face then, that Katya could not help but growl at him, red hot fire clouding her judgement. She sprang then, carelessly, anger glittering in her eye, knife twirling in a deadly arc. Ignoring the man's startled gaze, she brought the blade down...

...And watched him howl in pain as a bullet tore through his stomach.

_How unsightly. People like him are worse than those dust-possessed monsters._ Another coat-covered male emerged from the undergrowth, short choppy hair matted with dirt. He smiled at Katya, not unkindly, and pointed the barrel of his pistol to the writhing man on the ground. _You can finish him off you'd like. _

_Who are you?_ This time Tino's voice rang out as he stood from his hiding spot to point his sniper directly at the newcomer. His eyes were daggers, close and calculative as they fixed on their target.

Smile and shoot.

Katya widened her eyes as the shot reverberated through the air. On the ground, the once writhing thief lay still. The man dropped his empty pistol on the ground and sighed, previous demeanour vanishing entirely in a flash, stunning the both of them. _Don't you remember me at all?_

Katya doesn't. But something about those honey-brown eyes and tired gaze seemed so distantly familiar, and she knows she knew him from somewhere before and _it couldn't be_ but _it is_ and she finds her mouth parting to speak.

_China? Is that you?_

At these words, the desperate and tense air around the man vanish. As he slumped over in relief, Katya and Tino glimpse the most breathtakingly hopeful smile spreading across his face. _I thought you would never remember, aru._

XXVI.

_He took something precious away from me, so I hunted him down._ In the dark, Yao's voice was quiet as he relayed his tale. The three of them sat in a small circle round their dead fire as they listened for any presence of danger.

_He charmed us, tricked us into giving our trust. Mei especially. He stabbed me one day, and took Mei with him. The next time I saw him, Mei was gone and he told me.._ Yao's voice cracked at the last note, and Katya understood instantly.

Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be.

As she settled herself against the cold bark of the tree, Katya couldn't help but feel sorry for Mei. She had never known Taiwan very well, but the thought of _that man's_ filthy hands on her made her sick and burning with unshed anger.

How harsh, how cruel fate had treated her, but at least she would be in a better place now. Vengeance had been served, but Yao would forever hold that painful burden in his heart.

While Katya dreamt, safe above the forest floor, Tino laid awake, wondering how much more pain and suffering they would have to take before they broke completely.

Both of them were blissfully unaware of Yao crying into sleep that night. Tears of relief, tears of pain, Yao shed them all.

He would not have be alone anymore.

XXVII.

_You cut your hair._

The comment came at an odd timing, but was too late to retract it. Katya wished she had never open her mouth when she noticed the strange look he gave her. Looking away in embarrassment, she avoided Tino's amused eyes.

Yao smiled gently as he absentmindedly tousled the small locks of hairs on his neck. _An infected got his hands on it, so I had chop it off to get away. _His smile turned sheepish. _It makes me look funny doesn't it, aru?_

_No.. You just look different._

_A good different_, chimed in Tino.

_Heh, thanks.. I missed my ponytail, but I guess practicality before anything else right._ Yao's eyes held twinges of regret as he dropped his hand._ I can always grow it out again, after this is over._

_You could._ Katya swallowed lightly as she looked away.

_Thank you aru._ Yao smiled softly, though the sadness in his eyes did not fade away.

* * *

A/N

I have many feelings for China with short hair. Help me draw fanart for him and I will love you so much.

A nice ending for today's chapter, but what will next one bring?


	4. Atonement and Crossing

XXVIII.

They moved quickly. With Yao in the lead, they traced his route back southeast, following the coast bordering sea, and cutting their way through mountains and lowlands in a matter of weeks.

When they reached the border of east and west, summer was still strong and revelling in his domain.

Croatia, Bulgaria... None of those names meant anything to them now. Only to serve as landmarks to the rumoured sanctuary and a reminder of what they were once. Forests, abandoned cities, mountains, it was hard to meet anyone out that hadn't succumbed to the dust or gone insane from all the death and despair.

There were no more groups of survivors on the run, only strays, cunning, desperate resistant who would do anything to stay alive. Kill, blackmail, plunder. Being exposed to so much tragedy had harden them into solid warriors of the coldest hearts.

They, Yao explained, would be a common sight in the country of crossroads. Better to stay safe and out of sight, or have a mind cunning and quick-witted enough to avoid certain end.

The sun was red the day they crossed the border.

XXIX.

They came, just like Yao said they would. Slow and stealthy, they sleeked out from the shadows of trees, behind chipped walls of rock. Silent men watching them from the edges of their vision, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike.

Raw unbridled hunger shone in their eyes. It overflowed from their mouths, seep through their nostrils, emanated from their very beings. Never-ending, this hunger for satiation in their eyes. Katya sees the yearning and want in their faces and swallows in disgust. The dust had done something terrible to them, now they were neither human nor infected, resistant no longer, reduced to becoming mere animalistic creatures clutching for survival.

Behind her, she is aware of Tino moving closer to flank her side, steering her closer towards Yao, who took the lead. His eyes and mouth were hard, nothing reminiscent of the friendly, gentle man she knew. They moved without hesitation, eyes hard and one hand on their weapons. Pass the villages and towns, they do not stop to rest, and when they do, it is far _far_ away from these areas of civilisation.

Still the men watched, silent, desperate, unwilling to let an opportunity go. Their silent audible breaths haunt the trio's path deep into the country. Katya is reminded of the wolves in the forest, their frenzied minds clouded with nothing but the instinct of nourishment for survival.

But they don't know.

They don't know she has also been fighting all this time; for her life, for a better tomorrow, for a sibling six feet under and a sibling missing, for a man with violet eyes and a gentle smile who has broken once and a man, far older and wiser than she would ever be, who had killed to avenge the loss of his sibling. They don't know how sharp her skills are, how her axe glints in eagerness, how desperate she has been once.

They don't know what happened to the wolves who dared attack them.

When they come, hungry creatures with greedy lust, she-and them-are ready. They leave the scene, single axe glistening and strings of bullets littering the ground.

No one follows them.

XXX.

Katya doesn't remember when, but at some point she starts to feel lightheaded. There is a faint buzzing in her head, not strong enough to be painful, but constant enough to be an annoyance and worry.

The days on the road starts to blear one over another as her head grew worse. She finds herself stumbling to keep herself upright as they walked. Food starts to become unappetising, and a growing pain within her chest blooms.

They notice quickly, her sharp-eye friends, of her dilemma, and she notices too, the little things they do. Yao slows down their pace considerably while many a times she has spied Tino shooting her concerned looks. But in the midst of their sluggish travelling, a growing sense of dread pools in her belly. Try as she might, Katya cannot shake off the feeling that she is falling _sick_.

And the sick do not survive.

Her dreams, when not plagued with nightmares, are restless and disorienting. Half the time she wakes shaking and exhausted or having an urge to hurl.

When she wakes up one humid dawn with limbs too cold and head burning up, coughing up nothing-_please please not blood no_-and body shaking terribly, she whimpers weakly, the fear twisting deep in her gut.

XXXI.

A vision of dust-crusted fingernails stood out so vividly from her mind, she thinks she might burst. Katya starts to cough violently.

She doesn't want to die.

XXXII.

Her fever burns brightly, and the trio are forced to stop to take care of the situation. As she sleeps, Yao and Tino searched desperately for a cure of revival. Herbs were located, unearthed and mixed into several different remedies. But no amount of Yao's skill in medicine could coax the fever to break.

Katya hasn't cough up blood, but they were afraid, so afraid that they would find her one morning with pale lips stained red and glazed eyes. It was a possibility none of them spoke aloud, but that did not make it any less real.

Tino starts to pray. He has never been a believer of anything before and he isn't sure he is now, but still he prays. To anyone, anything out there that would grant him this one wish. They have spent three days not moving, and prey was running scarce. Infected sightings have also been on the rise. Yao has mentioned anything yet but the unspoken thought was something he knew and he doesn't want to acknowledge. As acknowledging-and following-would meant leaving her behind and _damn it all_ he doesn't want that and _Katya's probably in so much pain but I cannot help her no matter what I try! _and it hurts so, so much-_someone please save her_-but they _can't_ and time is running out.

Yao notices as well, Tino's pain, and curses himself, curses himself for being too useless because wasn't he the one blessed with knowledge and expertise for this? He places a soaked cloth of Katya's forehead-for the umpteenth time-in a desperate bid to bring the fever down. It doesn't.

Blinking back his frustration, Yao stared, with eyes tired and aged, at the sleeping woman in front of him. Her fingertips are cold, he notices as he stood up to stretch the aching muscles of his back.

The stalks of green rustle, and he stiffens, hands gripping a pistol pointed towards the source. He is not prepared for what comes next.

XXXIII.

In her lucid state of dreams Katya glimpses shadows of those long gone. She sees Lilli, closed-eyed and peaceful, tore apart by dogs. Their brays, so loud, so painful, wreck her ears. Ugly howls and barks morphing to something more feral, and then there were no more dogs, only wolves, and dust. Infected wolves who tore into the flesh of her cold cold sister. She shuts her eyes tightly, struggling to think of happier times-but nightmares are something you cannot escape from-and reopens them only to see a bullet go off into Vash's head.

_It's just a dream_, she tries fervently to console herself as her breathing turns erratic, but as she turns to find the gun's holder, honey gold glazed over into violet and suddenly it's Yao and Tino and the thief all at once, pointing the trigger at her because her skin has turned pale and _no, no this is not happening _but it is; the dust caught in her system, the blood of people and infected she has killed coating her hands, she has become the very thing she swore she wouldn't.

Katya turns apprehensively, tears in her glazed, infected eyes and sees now, not Tino nor Yao or anyone else, but purple eyes she would know anywhere holding the trigger to her head. Her brother stares back, darling Ivan with stone cold orbs holding the slightest twinge of regret. He fires, and Katya floats back into oblivion.

The next time Katya surfaces within her dreams, she is in a field of sunflowers, a boy situated by her side, and a wet towel over her forehead.

_Hello_, said the child, black eyes blinking curiously as he held her hand. _You should go back to sleep._

_I should?_ Her head still hurts, but she feels oddly light like she is floating on clouds.

_Mmhmm. Uncle said your fever's gone down, but you still need to rest. Your friends are worried about you, but he says none of them can see you until you get better._

_I'm not dead?_

_No you aren't._ The boy made to flip the towel on her head, and Katya breathed out a sigh at the slight coolness.

_I won't die?_ Katya parted her mouth to swallow cooling liquid as the boy gingerly directed a bottle to her lips. He nodded an affirmative.

_Then..this is a good dream._ Katya murmured softly as her eyes closed, allowing the gentle lull to tug her back into blackness.

XXXIV.

Tino tilted his head as a strangled squeak abruptly cut off in the bushes. Brushing the tall stalks aside, he let out a pleased sound at the sight of the dead squirrel caught in his snare. With practised hands he removed the creature and reset the trap before picking the limp creature by its scruff.

Casting one eye back the way he came from, he shifted closer to the water's edge, checking the other traps and searching for human presence. None of the traps he set especially for infected had been disturbed, but he could not shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

He thinks back to the woman lying sick against the only tree in a 2 mile radius, his single, most trusted companion since the start of the dust and swallows painfully against the lump in his throat. The new additions to their group had assured him that her fever was breaking, but Tino was still reluctant to believe everything was fine.

_I believed once, but at the last moment they were snatched away from me again. _

_Till she wakes up_, he promised himself as he plucks a measly rabbit from a trap, _then I will relax_.

XXXV.

The boy stood quietly in the middle of the small stream. Dipping a bottle into the moving water, he waited until the container was full before standing up and capping the lid. The sleeping lady was sure to be thirsty, and he needed to get back to her soon.

And, he thought with a smile, the nice Uncle would be happy if she got better quickly. The past three days had been centred on taking care of her and scouting their next path ahead. Now his heart ached to be on the move again.

Walking by the tall reeds, he froze at the sounds of loud crunching against the ground. Someone was dragging his feet loudly; a big warning sign that this was no seasoned survivor. Crouching down immediately, he half crawled, half waddled into the shadows of the reeds, careful to avoid making any noise against the pebbled floor.

Now concealed, he sneaked a peek between the swaying stalks, wary of the intruder, and instantly fought back a wave of trembling fear. Ten feet away, the figure of an infected gazed about distantly, drool dripping from its lips, clothes tattered and stained with substances he did not want to know.

Even louder shuffling started from behind it, and the boy had to swallow a gasp as five more infected slowly meandered their way out of the reeds. Suddenly the field did not look as safe as it once were.

Warily the boy watched as the first one sniffed the air, before turning and moving slowly towards..towards..

Oh no.

The boy cowered as the infected headed his way. Their footsteps were slow and loud against the pebbles of the river as they shuffled ever closer to his patch of reeds. Closer, and even closer still, the boy could see the sunken skin of the infected now, and he resisted the urge to scream. If he was to die here, he would die here dignified and with a fight. He would die trying to warn Uncle. He bunched up his muscles and braced himself to attack.

Five feet...

Two feet...

Then, it happened.

As one, the infected stopped. For a few moments everything was still, the air tensed as the afternoon heat bathed over them. Slowly, one of the infected turned and begin to move in the opposite direction. One by one, the others followed, leaving the boy trembling with confusion and relief.

Cautiously he peeked out of the reeds and stole a look at the group of dust monsters. They were moving with purpose this time, but now their direction was towards the...

_Tree_.

Eyes widening in realisation, the boy started to panic. The tree was the only landmark in miles, and they had the carelessness of making its base their camp. And the lady...the lady! Both her friends and his Uncle had left to scout for routes or searched for food, unknowingly allowing this group of infected to slip in unnoticed. She was vulnerable.

Wringing his hands together, the boy desperately searched for ideas. He didn't want her to die, but at this rate, at this rate... An epiphany came to him then, sudden and swift, and with it, a calmness he had never felt before.

All was still.

He swallowed heavily, hands still trembling as he fisted them by his sides. There was a way, but all ways come at a price. The nice Uncle had told him many weeks ago, after he had been saved, stories of immortal people. _They don't have powers. They are just like you and me_, nice Uncle had laughed as he tugged him into a bed of grass beneath the stars. _But they each hold a gift to live forever and are tasked to record time and its people as it flows by. _He had spun tales of the of the men and women to his fascination and ever since, he has held the stories deep in his heart.

The boy was convinced that they were real. Eternal people who were burdened to record history. Perhaps they might have been just that; stories. But still the boy treasured them, for they comforted him. In their run against the dust and infected, he had come to hold them dear to himself. And now, taking care of a lady who refused to bow to an illness, he had become convinced that she was one of them.

No one has ever survived being sick, whether to the dust, or to common sicknesses strengthened by the dust. But this, but her. The boy could hardly believe it. Given the right herbs she had recovered and was well in her recuperating period. If he ever wanted living proof of the immortal people, she was it.

So how could he then? How could he allow the infected to get their hands on her now? Gaining confidence, he crawled out of the shadows and stood right under the sun, the moving backs of the infected facing him.

Nice Uncle had once told him that the immortal would not die, could not die, for they had a certain purpose to fulfil in the world. Be it to observe, to record, to guide history onwards or create history itself. Once their purpose was fulfilled, or when the closing of an era beckons, they would disappear. Fade away to whatever awaits them next. The death of an empire, or the splitting of a land, sometimes new will come to replace the old, sometimes nothing will at all.

Picking up a large pebble, the boy wonders if this was his purpose all along. If he were to disappear, would he end up somewhere as well? If so, he hopes it would be a happy place. Maybe he might even meet one of those immortal people. The thought gives him consolation, and as he flings the pebble, hard and forward, he grins madly, fear and solace mixed into one.

The pebble struck home, and as he turned to run, he let lose the loudest, bloodcurdling scream he could muster.

He would protect the lady.

XXXVI.

When Yao heard the shrill scream, all rational thought fled his body. Running back as fast as he could, he let instinct guide him as he unhanded the pistols on his side and cocked them with one swift movement of fingers.

The sound came from the stream, and as he ran closer, he spied the blurred form of Tino joining him, rifle by his side.

_Go to Katya_, he shouted. Tino spared him a short nod before bounding towards the tree. Picking up the pace, Yao moved faster, shots firing from the pistols and homing in on their targets. But even as he ran towards the mess of infected in front of him, he had a sinking feeling that whatever had transpired was too late to be stopped.

* * *

A/N

I would like to thank everyone that favourited, followed, and reviewed my work. You guys are the best.


	5. Reclamation and Nadir

XXXVII.

Shouts and hurried footsteps, pained screams. Then gunshots, so many gunshots, and loud moaning. All muffled, all felt so far away. Then, the sensation of being picked up, followed by rhythmic swaying.

Katya sees only sunflowers and fields, the child in her dreams chasing sparrows into the sky.

XXXVIII.

When Katya stirs she finds herself slung over one shoulder, an arm around her wrist. Her eyes see only soil, the footprints of her carrier throwing dust into the air. She twists, her muddled head slowly trying to comprehend things, and blinks back glazed eyes.

_Awake?_ The man carrying her stops and gently places her on the ground. A few paces in front, there was shuffling, then the feel of gentle hands pulling her upright.

_Katya? Katya? _

Blinking away the last traces of haze from her mind, she focuses to find concerned and relieved faces looking back at her steadily.

_You are okay?_ Tino asks first, violet eyes searching her gaze for signs of anything wrong.

_I think so.. I'm not sick anymore?_

_No_, Yao smiles, _your fever broke yesterday_. He presses a familiar handle into her hands, and her fists tightened over it unconsciously, awareness coming back to her at the feel of her precious battle axe.

_Where are we?_ Katya takes a few experimental steps. She does not wobble.

_Somewhere in Afghanistan. Well, it used to be Afghanistan anyways._ The same gruff voice answered, and Katya turned to face the newcomer, eyes recognising the person immediately. She finds it hard to swallow, her parched throat aching, and could only stare at the man who had put her down on the ground.

_A small 'thank you' would suffice you know? _The man's naked eyes twinkled as he looked at her. There was no mask present.

_He saved your life_, Yao murmured as he turned to hoist the extra backpack-hers she dimly realised-from the ground.

_..Then, thank you Sadiq._

_No biggie, the herbs you needed were in my possession, so I did nothing really. Good to see you too Katya. _Nodding slightly, Turkey turned away, revealing the left side of his...

_Your arm.._ She could not help but mumbled out loud.

_Oh. You mean this?_ Sadiq turned so that she could see the damage. No shame or embarrassment clouded his features as he did, and Katya realised that he must have come into terms with the injury long ago. _An infected tore into it, so I had to amputate it off arm down. It worked and I err, did not turn. _He tapped his fingers gently against the sleeves of his shirt. _Months old, this thing. _

Laughing it off, Sadiq moved to follow Yao, who had begun walking ahead, leaving her to look after him silently. How? How can he still laugh after what had happen to him? Katya thinks of the mild sickness that almost killed her, and a wave of shame washes upon her. How minuscule her problems and troubles were as compared to his.

Tino nudges her forward gently, and she squeezes his shoulder in reassurance as she snapped out of her reverie. But even as she starts walking, there was a nagging thought in her head that _something wasn't right; something (someone?) was missing_.

XXXIX.

It takes days for her to build up the courage to ask if there was a little boy originally with him. When Sadiq sighs softly and answers yes, her heart clenches with denial. She knows, she has guessed it a long time ago; that this would be a very huge possibility that had happened, but still she had hoped that the quiet eyes and childish face was nothing but a figment of her imagination. If only so that he would not have to go through that much pain.

The camp was awfully silent, Tino and Yao having already retreated into the trees for the night. In the starless sky, Sadiq's figure were but fainted outlines in her vision. Her whisper comes quiet in the night, subdued and doleful.

_What was his name?_

_Āśā. He called me Uncle._ Throughout the night, if Sadiq's breath had hitched ever so slightly in his rambling of the child he had saved in India, or if his figure had trembled a little too much in the darkness, he did not say anything about it. Katya herself kept quiet, her own frame shaking for the little boy that had saved her life.

XXXX.

The further up east they moved, the more hordes they encountered. Katya has lost count of how much blood has spilled by her axe. She doesn't bother to wash the blood off her cloak; it would only be stained again anyways.

Despite the rising numbers of infected, they made good time. Yao and Tino had taken to using physical weapons, leaving the shooting-and saving the bullets-for Sadiq. More often than not, they would always emerged from the fight bloodied, having no real skill in preventing the sticky red from staining their clothes.

Needless to say, their actions always earned them a messy cleanup session.

The pressing issue of the hordes however, took away the light-hearted element of their journey. Yao was convinced that they were gathering around something, or maybe a big number of resistant had been here of late. _Why else would the hordes be here?_ He had muttered thoughtfully.

It wouldn't take long for them to know soon enough. As they cut though the western tip of China, thatched houses turned scarce, and little by little the hordes thinned out. Plains and rocky terrain greeted them as they persisted forward. By the third day Yao spots it, and the four of them could only look in wonder at the distant row of enormously tall barb wire-protected fence.

XXXXI.

The winds ensured that any sparks are blown out of existence as soon as they come to life, so they resort to huddling close together at night, body temperature being the primary source to keep them warm.

Sadiq curses the chill and what it does to the aching of his stump, and for many a night he is unable to rest well. He becomes a constant subject to be fussed over, and though he finds amusement with the trio's attentiveness towards him, he pays much more careful attention to his defective arm than before. An ailment like his might spell an opening of weakness, and he does not want to jeopardise their current status in any way.

When day comes they trek closer to the wall of barbed wires, mindful of any danger their way. But the plains are empty, devoided of creature or man. Only green grows around here, burrows for wild hares hidden within the bumps and dips of the land.

Tino traps them easily with his hunting skills, and though the creatures themselves hold little meat, their plentiful numbers more than ensure that they eat relatively well, as survivors could, these first few days.

XXXXII.

Yao takes the blunt edge of his knife and pokes the barbs lining along the fence gently. _Solid steel, and thick wires. Someone really doesn't want things to come in._

_And there's more_. Sadiq lifted a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. When all was silent, Katya hears a faint buzzing sound coming from beyond the barbs and within the fence. _Electric, _she says.

_That's right. _Sadiq nods at her_. The wire looks almost three metres tall and the fence around it five. Designed to keep things in or out. There is even a lookout post over there. _He points to some distant place beyond the fence but she sees nothing apart from more rocky terrain.

_You think this is it?_ Tino breaths softly, and Katya can see the anticipation and hope in his eyes. He has not been this excited for a long time, the last being during those few weeks of reprieve in the mountains.

_The sanctuary?_ Yao shrugged, but a smile tugged insistently on his lips. _Maybe aru, we have to find a way in first to see._

They decide to walk round the perimeter, and Katya notices how big and vast the fence stretched. It encompassed more plains and rocky ledges than she had ever seen, all too numerous to be counted. The wind blows strongly here, and trails of wild weeds moved in sync, dancing to invisible hands.

In the hours spent following the fence, not one human could be seen.

_It worries me._ Tino whispered to her away from the company of the remaining two men. _If this is the rumoured sanctuary, then where are all the resistant? Where could they be hiding?_

XXXXIII.

As expected, tracing the fence takes them days. They spy a few strays roaming the plains-taken care of easily, but it is on the eve of the second day that they noticed something was wrong.

_There's a whole horde of them_. Sadiq mutters as they crouched hidden behind a particularly high curve of the land. And it was true, the abnormal number of creatures was astounding. They lumbered, like the great clumsy creatures they are, in scattered groups, moving robotically to a destination unknown, paying no attention to the barb wires but instead moving beside them. It was bigger than any of the packs they had encountered before.

_They are going somewhere._ Tino frowned as he scrutinised the horde. _But where?_

_Hey,..if this is really the sanctuary, you don't think they might be going to attack the resistant inside do you? _In the tense silence, Yao's quiet brooding came as a shock to the group.

_Impossible! The sanctuary cannot be broken!_

_Calm down, it was just an idea aru._

_But that would make sense wouldn't it? _Three pairs of eyes shot towards her shock and suddenly Katya understands. Why the outpost they had found days earlier was empty. Why they have been walking for so long without spotting a single human being in sight. Why there wasn't even a guard.

_Because they were under attack._

XXXXIV.

_So what do you suppose we do? Stay around here and wait? I don't know about you, but I have gone though my share of blood and suffering. I'm not going in there to help people who may not even exist. Hell, we don't even know if this is the sanctuary anyway!_

The pressure was too much, all the mounting suffering and held out hope dissipating in seconds. So close to the end, yet this small setback has forced the tiny cracks on their physique to splinter.

_Calm down. You are getting too work up!_

_Like hell I am!_

In the midst of their arguing Katya sees Tino start to shake as his breathing accelerated._ We are going to die, aren't we? There's no hope left for us. Those monsters are going to kill every single one of u-_

_No. _Katya grabbed his hands and looked him in the eye. Scared blue met panicking violet, and she swallowed heavily, determined to pull him back from that point-such a gentle person shouldn't be allowed to break ever-again. _Tino, no one's going to die._

_That's not true. Emil did, and so did Lilli, Vash. Even that little boy a few days ago. Anyone that I have ever cared about is dead!_

_But I'm not dead._ And suddenly it just too much and Katya feels moisture dripping down her face. Vaguely she hears the argument between Yao and Sadiq dying down. Tino makes a surprise noise of revelation as his hands moved frantically to brush away the offending tears. But she pushes him away.

_No, no..Katya, Katya I didn't mean it like that._ His voice breaks, and her heart aches at the pained tone of it all. But once started, it becomes hard for the tirade to stop.

_I've lost people too you know. Natalya, Lilli. You didn't know what I had to go through before meeting you. But I'm still here! I'm still alive! And I'm still fighting! We are almost there Tino, so why can't you just hold on...just hold on for a bit longer?.._

Her last words comes out as a choked sob as she turnes into herself, energy spent and throat dry. She is too tired to fight back when someone embraces her from behind. Bodies come to press around her in a comforting circle and she rubs at her eyes roughly, mumbled pleas of _I'm sorry, I'm sorry_ filling her ears.

_Don't ever say that_, she whispers fiercely. _All of you, don't ever say that. Things will get better, and if they don't, we will make it better. So don't_-she feels the body embracing her shudder-_don't ever say that all hope is over. Those that couldn't make it, they wouldn't us to give up now. I_-she inhales shakily-_don't want to give up, till the very last second I don't want to give up. So I'm going to fight, to see if there's a chance at all. And if_-she hiccups choppily as her breathing shakes-_even if the sanctuary is nothing but a lie, I will continue living. I'll continue moving and taking down infected because that's what they would have wanted, and what, and what I_-

_Enough Katya_, Sadiq says softly beside her, right arm enveloping Tino's shaking frame. _We know._

_I'm sorry._ She grabbles for Tino's hand and squeezes hard. He squeezes back just as tightly.

_Don't be_, Yao answers behind her, his forehead pressed against her shoulder blade. _Don't be._

XXXXV.

The sun was still high in the sky when they broke apart, exhaustion; mental, physical and emotional lining their faces. Despite Katya's previous words, they fall asleep on the grass behind the hill, uncaring of being seen. At this point, they just wanted rest.

When they wake, the first rays of orange were clearing away the indigo and black in the sky. The horde had gone, no traces of them left in the open plain. Katya grips her axe, pressing her head against the helve and breaths deeply.

She can hear the others preparing their weapons. The sound of new cartridges slotted in, the clinking of bullets refilled, she grazes her hand against the handgun held tightly on her belt.

There is no verbal command for them to move, rather a silent understanding. A breeze prompts Tino to take the first step, and suddenly they were off, knifes and daggers, guns and axe strapped to their sides as they ran down the slope, tracing the path of the horde.

The breeze follows them, whipping their hair messily as they ran, coats and cloaks flapping into absurd shapes as dandelion fluff whip by their feet. The morning was beautiful.

How ironic it was, for things of beauty to still exist in a world where death and pain were eminent and common as day. But wasn't it always so? The world had always been cruel but so, so beautiful. Katya would come to understand that soon enough. Perhaps she already had.

* * *

A/N

And so we are finally introduced to all of the main characters in the quartet. The next one is the final chapter, are you ready? It has been a good run, but I think it's about time to stop prolonging the suffering of dear Katya yes?

Āśā (आशा) -Hindu for hope. How ironic, then, that he's dead. But his death also enables Katya to survive, thus bringing her to hope.


	6. Apotheosis

XXXXVI.

The sense of hearing is triggered first, followed by smell. As they neared the eye of the hurricane, Katya picks out the crackle of gunshots in the air. The air here is thick, full of tension and fear and a primal instinct to kill. As they proceed further, the bodies appear, and the scent of coppery iron fills her nose.

She hears Sadiq growl loudly and grips the helve of her axe tighter, mouth narrowing and eyes hardening. The bodies of infected and human littered the ground as they ran faster, adrenaline guiding their limbs.

They round a bend and see it; the horde of dust monsters growling as they charged forward against a barrage of bullets.

There is a hole in the fence, breached by the creatures who lived solely to kill. There was shouting, screams of men mowed down as the horde hurdled even closer to their targets. Many of them were trapped in the layer between barb wire and fence, guns empty and exposed for death.

Essentially cornered.

Any reinforcements were unable to aid their comrades due to the tight narrow gap of the wall. The horde pushed ever closer, and Katya knew instantly that it was a lost cause for them.

_But not for us._

Tino reaches the horde first, lifting his rifle and firing shots left and right as he disappeared within the pack, creating a path for them to move in. On her right she hears Yao yelling loudly, a Chinese battle cry of attack as he throws himself into the fray.

She darts forward until she is face to face with a sunken dead face and smiles-a mad, grim smile of a warrior prepared for death, and brings her axe down.

XXXXVII.

One strike. Turn and smash down. Twist and repeat. Left, then left again. Knock away. One two three. Four. Left and right. Eight and..ten. Down, jump! Anchor and kick. Sideways and strike.

Dashing to her right, Katya bashes the skulls of another two-no three-infected, not flinching in the slightest when blood spurts to dye the ground red. The loud sound of firing guns all around her did not deter her actions in the slightest. Rather, her movements became even more fluid as she struck each figure with ease, her hands manoeuvring the helve of the axe easily as she brought the heavy blade down in an arc.

They wouldn't hit her. Their shots were too accurate for that.

Blood dripped from the metal as she brought it down, again and again, staining the grass and soil red. Breathing raggedly, she ducked nimbly out of the way as one attempted to claw at her shoulder. Swinging her axe sideways, an infected groaned as the blade lodged itself deep within its skull.

Pulling free, she twisted and chopped through the neck of another, twitching slightly as a claw grazed her cheek. A circle of bodies surrounded her, forming blockades of protection against infected that attempted to reach her. Ducking out and under the clutches of one, she slashed her way deeper into the horde.

A strings of bullets struck the new wave of infected, and she glanced right to see Sadiq barraging in with a single AK-47 in his hand, forming a clear path for her to follow. She does so readily, incapacitating the heads and chests of any who managed to stray pass his fire.

XXXXVIII.

Tino moves with accuracy and precision. Movements agile and swift, he pushed his way through the horde, shooting anything that moved. Yellow crusted hands grabble for his head, forcing him to duck. His hand moved to unsheathe the blade on his belt and with one quick strike he chopped off the bothersome hand wrist down, earning a pained groan from the infected.

He finished the job with a bullet to the chest and took off for his elected destination. Holding the dagger between his teeth, he fumbled for more bullets, dodging teeth and hands that promised pain and death.

A strike to an infected frees him, and he's given just enough time to reload. Snapping the barrel shut, he resumes firing, violet eyes hard with instinct as he moved, Left, right, duck. Right. Jump and roll over. All those military exercises he has executed in the north flashes pass his mind, and when he thinks of Berwald again, determination surfaces and he moves with even faster precision.

In minutes he reaches the mass of infected surrounding the breached fence and starts to fire. He doesn't stop even when there is movement behind him. But the imminent danger is over in a second as Yao stooped in to fire against the creatures moving from behind.

He holds constant fire as he moves inward, cornering-and trapping-the group of infected that clamoured for the fence.

XXXXXIX.

Yao breathes fire, burning red hot fire that brings the infected up in flames. The horde was big, bigger than anything he has ever seen in his hunt of the thief-at least two hundred of the dust-claimed humans, but it does not discourage him the slightest as he threw bullets left and right.

Bodies fall, but new ones always replace the old. It irks him, as though his effort isn't amounting to much at all. He lifts both machine guns and drives a hard kick into the stomach of one that had wandered too close, regaining his momentum not a second later before slamming the barrel of one gun against its head and letting loose a shot.

He tries his best in driving the infected away from Tino but _they just keeping coming_-and one man alone cannot stop them, even if his strength far compasses that of any mortal. His guns choke and he realises belatedly that he's run out of bullets.

Flinging them to the ground, he unsheathes the long knife and dagger from his belt, experimentally slashing at air in an attempt to warm-up. He'd always taken pride in his warrior heritage, and Katya isn't the only one with knowledge on how to wield a blade or weapon. He smiles, wise, and dragon eyes glitter as he twists and impales the chest of an sunken female. _Let's see how I'll fair._

He takes down ten before the sound of gunshots echo behind him, thudding footsteps marking the arrival of men with guns and young, spirited energy for battle. Gasping for breath-_when did I start to feel so old?_-, he stands back to allow the wave of fresh recruits to enter the fray.

Tino had done it.

XXXXX.

Sadiq holds his gun steady as bullets blasted in rapid-fire against the horde of advancing creatures. He can hear the guttural moans of things been slashed open behind him, and for once he is rather relieved he's not on the receiving end of Katya's wrath.

When the bullets run out, he expertly elbows the barrel of the empty gun into the stomach of one before swiping the feet of another. Swiftly he takes the remaining gun from his belt and continues to shoot. All with one hand.

_This is for Greece._ He fires one at point-blank range to the head. _And this is for Egypt._ He kicks another in the groin and fires at its chest. _This is for __Āśā_, he shoots three in the face and shoves the gun against the fourth, pushing it down and crushing one foot on its chest. _And this_, he points the barrel at the struggling infected, _this is for what you did to my arm._

He pulls the trigger, and the gurgling mess below him becomes still.

He tilts his head back to see Katya panting, cloak and axe thoroughly soak with red as she slices another head open. He grins at her, mentally fatigued from his previous outburst before diverting his attention towards human shouts coming from the fence's direction.

Before them, the walls of infected crumbled down, revealing resistant with guns and ammunition in their hands. One of them catches sight of them, lifting his brows with surprise at their tattered attire, before radioing something to his comrades.

A ring of resistant surrounds them, and they are quickly ushered past ranks of shooting men and women. Sadiq catches sight of Yao standing near the barb wire and sighs in relief.

Everything is going to be okay.

XXXXXI.

Everything does become okay, sort of. They discover the personification of Mongolia being the impromptu leader of the resistance, and he invites them cordially into the safe haven. The first day in, they encountered people they thought they would never see again. Friends, long lost family, the awe on their faces makes Katya smile, and she is relieved, so relieved, that there are countries-_no, not countries, people_-of their kind still living.

Tino cries when his brother hugs him tightly (though Norway is no better in keeping the tears in). Netherlands and Hungary greet them with awed faces and for many a day after they ask questions about their travels to get to the sanctuary.

Elizaveta hugs her tightly-_but something is wrong, someone isn't here_ -, and they both mourn the loss of their other best friend.

They get a replacement for Sadiq's arm. A crude, painful, mechanical little thing, and there were countless apologies and promises given to get him something better. But he waves off the protests, thankful for even something to aid him.

Even when part of themselves has fallen apart, they still retain their immortality-and duty-as nations from before. And so the responsibility falls upon them, to help the people rebuild their lives.

Living in yurts isn't such a bad thing, and the day is always simple whenever they are away from the frontlines. Tino and Lukas hunt within the far ends of the perimeter, always bringing back more rabbits and birds than anyone else for hungry mouths, while Sadiq joins Abel on the scouting team to map out new areas of invasion and expansion into infected areas.

Yao turns to medicine, and has Katya come to help him. (She is thankful that he did. She wouldn't know what to do otherwise.) Elizaveta aids in the planting of crops, building irrigation systems that draw water from far within the mountains.

Beneath the constant wave of problems to fix, life settles itself again.

But the struggle remains.

Tino still wakes up with horrible dreams, ones that only Katya and Lukas can calm. Elizaveta still thinks she can see the ghost of a former lover within her vision(she wonders all the time whether she's going mad) and Sadiq still moves like a man with two hands; he pauses every time he moves to reach for a pen(left was his dominant hand), agony apparent on his face.

Katya finds her axe one day, crusted with a thin layer of dust in the corner of her yurt. She hasn't killed in weeks. Hands skimming over the helve, she feels tired and drained all of a sudden. She might have survived, but there was nothing left. Nothing left for her to feel whole.

XXXXXII.

Months past and winter reigns twice. The breezes carry the scent of mountain flowers, and with it the presence of something else.

Paper pieces drop from the sky, metal wings unfolding with the sound of a thousand hums. Throughout the sanctuary, no one moves, all eyes and faces directed to the outline of the disappearing plane.

High above a rocky outcrop, Katya watches the planes come one by one, spreading through the sky and dropping a sea of fluttering white onto the land below before vanishing over the horizon.

The wind carries sheets of paper towards her and she catches one by its edges, swinging the bag of mountain herbs over her shoulder. Printed letters greet her, and she realises it has been a long while since she has last read something.

Scanning its contents, Katya feels a jolt of electricity shoots through her, and she trembles, unable to hold in a sob. Wet droplets land on the paper, staining the words into blurry blots, but the two words she focuses on remain unchanging.

Tino hugs her later in the day when he finds her, his shaking form radiating with emotion as she grasps his sleeve in an effort to hold herself together. Yao watches them with a serene half smile on his face while Sadiq drinks beside him quietly, a bottle of alcohol available for the rare occurrence. They are both happy, relief and a sense of closure in their eyes. In a moment of euphoria, Elizaveta challenges Sadiq into chugging alcohol, and somehow Abel was made to join them in their fooling around. When Lukas reaches to tousle his brother's hair, Tino lets go, but he does not move from her side. He never did, even when the shouts of jubilation and atmosphere of success echo late into the night.

Katya smiles again, and it is a little less broken and painful.

She starts to heal, properly this time.

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_Evenkiysky District_

_Krasnoyarsk Krai, Russia 62.628632, 105.137218_

_Konstantinovich Chemical Lab_

_XXXX XX XX_

_Log #628_

_To all humans capable of sentient thoughts, to all survivors still living, this is an important message recorded from the elites of out rank, who have urged us to send this message to all remaining humans as soon as possible._

_For the past 2 years a specialised team of scientists have sealed themselves in a top secret Russian underground lab cum bunker amid the impending chaos of the world to search for a cure to the unknown particle specimen #089975, more commonly known as the 'dust' that have ravaged and destructed human and animal life since their discovery and release from sealed chambers founded on lone islands #I855 and #I872 in the Pacific Ocean. After 756 days, we are ecstatic to say that we have found it._

_The cure, labelled 6380 nuclearium salutem has been proven to expel all traces of the gene type Q4E03 that has been found harmful to living creatures. It prevents the morphing of both animal and human into walking undead beings before or after death by halting the spreading of the recessive gene type and disrupting the generic code._

_Our scientists have compressed the cure-in gaseous form-into ethanol-ish liquid and the plan to send jets into airspace for cloud seeding is already in motion. It will take approximately 2 months for the air space in Central Russia and the majority of Mongolia spanning coordinate numbers xxxxxxxx to xxxxxxxx to be cleared from the dust._

_It will take time, but we believe that in the months and years to come, Earth can be fully purged of the dust, and human life could be restored into part of its former semblance, however small._

_All this could not be possible without the effort of all our scientists, top experts in chemical and biology sciences, and the knowledge of a certain Mr Ivan Braginsky, who has been the impromptu leader of this crucial project._

_As the final log of this project, it would be noted that after the spreading of gaseous nuclearium salutem in Russia and Mongolia, we will be shutting down the __Konstantinovich__lab for good and moving to studier premises to further the study of 6380 nuclearium salutem and if possible, create more efficient cures to aid mankind._

_Like grass after winter's spell, beings will eventually adapt and move on from tragedy to become stronger and smarter in heart and mind. Things will get back, and the earth will once again turn green._

_Have hope, because the worst is over._

_._

_._

_._

_._

Her brother was alive.

* * *

A/N.

There, a nice resolution to tie it up properly yes? I have always imagined the ending to be like this, and I'm glad I was able to pull this off from my mind almost the way I wanted it. Ivan lives!

Katya and Tino!1! I kid I kid, but their relationship just kind of developed into this stage throughout the one month I worked on this project. I like it tbh, their dependent yet non-romantic feelings they have for each other. For now at least. Who knows, they might end up together in future. Who am I to dismiss anything.

I would like to thank everyone who has read, favourited, followed and reviewed It Goes On. It means a lot to me, since this is my first (and will probably be for a long time) multi chapter story project I have ever written. Depending on feedback, I might do more multi chapter stories later in another stepping stone in my life.

Special thanks goes to _Malta-chan_ and _Resucitated Blue_, the two reviewers that have been consistently giving me great and encouraging reviews throughout the progression of IGO. You guys are the best, and I look forward every week for your reviews. I will miss your names on my review notifications! Also to _The secret trio_, your answer to Norway's whereabouts is here.

Another thing, apart from the main quartet of characters, I did not focused too much on other Hetalia characters in this story. That's why I have been mulling over creating side stories that run parallel and link together with the main storyline. These will be spinoffs that focus on other nations and how they cope during the period of pestilence. I get to expand on this universe, and readers get to see more characters. It's like a win win, except then you have to bear with me killing even more people off.

Please comment to me about this idea because I really do love it, but I just lack the motivation to write it out. Otherwise, everything is ready and set for me. The burning church from earlier on, for example, was a eager me trying to set up a premise for a spinoff. Now I only need the drive...

It's hard to believe this all started because of one gloomy day home from school in the rain. But here it is, in its full glory, my product of that one thought during a walk home.


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